Goat Molests Farmer, Not Sorry


Come on, guys. I’m tellin’ ya, you got the wrong goat.

Yeah, I was feeding on Mr. Dudkins grass, but I wasn’t the one digging in his trousers the other night. I don’t rape. Now, I’m not gonna lie and say I’ve never fooled around before, but I don’t force myself on anyone…or anything.

I’ve got fucking hooves. How much forcing can I do? I’m not big, either. In fact, I’m pretty un-fucking-big. I’m like teeny tiny. Dude, I’m a damn goat, okay. I eat grass. I climb jagged cliffs and mountains. That is what I do.

Did Dudkins have an ass-raping coming his way? Sure. Most farmers do. Did I shit all over his cabbage and fuck-up his corn fields? You bet.

But driving my horns or my nose into his body in any shape or form; not my idea of a good time. And I tell ya, on this farm (on any farm), there are good times to be had. That is not one of them.

So, no, I’m not apologzing. For what? For considering the idea of defiling that 83-year old bastard? Not in the least. Kill a goat for pissing on your mattress. For eating all your corn or wheat. For running off chicens or pigs.

Not for “supposed” rape or murder.

Seriously, get your facts right next time before you go around accusing every goat you see. Cuz I gotta be honest, it’s getting pretty fucking old. And it’s getting pretty fucking uncool.

Okay, fine. I did it.

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